A Needle Into A Bug
by Lucy Grayson
Summary: One-shot for Rkolover2. Stacy Keibler returns to the WWE to find that someone has been waiting for her. Rated T for disturbing themes and physical violence.


**This is a one-shot for rkolover2, who posted the 150****th**** review on my story, Wait What?**

**Thank you for giving me such great ideas to work with!**

**I hope that this is good enough for you :D

* * *

**

Stacy was nervous about returning to the WWE, she checked and re-checked her appearance, carefully arranging her blonde waves and adjusting the straps of her blue, sparkly top. She fidgeted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, then moved away from the mirror and sat on the couch in her locker room, pulling on her flat, knee-length black boots. Her fingers trembled slightly as she slid the zip closed. It wasn't just her return that she was nervous over. She hadn't seen Randy since before she'd left. They'd parted as friends, but she would never forget the last time she saw him, the look in his eyes. There had been something dark there, something with chilled her to the core and she wasn't sure why.

Randy had always been the perfect gentleman towards her, never pushing the boundaries of their professional relationship, but his eyes that day…just the memory sent a shiver through her. She had been attracted to him, of course she had. Any woman with eyes could see how heart-stoppingly beautiful he was, but other than the romance they'd shared on screen, nothing had ever happened between the two of them.

With a deep breath, she rose to her feet, adjusting her weight slightly to make sure the boots were comfortable. She shook her hair from her eyes and then headed for the door. She gripped the cold, metal handle and pulled it open, then gasped sharply in surprise. "Randy!" As if he'd been stood, waiting for her to open to door, Randy was placed directly outside. His face was set in a brooding expression, but he bestowed his most charming smile on her after a few moments, "I came to welcome you back." Stacy's heart felt like it was trying to bang out of her chest and she wasn't entirely sure why. She glanced around nervously, the corridor outside was deserted. "Um…well, thank you. I really appreciate that. How have you been?"

In response, Randy only shrugged. He stepped aside so that she could leave the room and fell into step beside her as she walked. Her hands wrung nervously in front of her. This felt wrong, it felt so, so wrong. She didn't know why, she couldn't put her finger on it, but she felt…afraid? Randy was giving off a kind of pulsating energy and there was something in the way he moved which made her want to run away. She didn't. She carried on walking as he questioned her on how she'd been and what she'd been doing. She answered politely, but with short sentences, not wanting to draw the encounter out. "Well, this is my stop." They had arrived at Stephanie's office. Randy looked at the door and then back to her. He smiled and nodded, then took one of her hands and brushed his lips sweetly over her knuckles. Stacy tried to smile, before walking into the office. As she turned to close the door, her eyes met Randy's and it was there again, that darkness. Her heart jumped and she shut the door with a little more force than necessary.

* * *

Randy prowled through the backstage area, heading out to the parking lot. Everyone avoided him. There was something in his posture, in his eyes, that made them keep back, made them not want to be anywhere near him. Once outside, he drew in a long, deep breath. It was warm and there was little relief in the humid air. A scowl darkened the Viper's face and his eyes settled on his Hummer. His vehicle of choice. For a very good reason. He climbed in the driver's seat and waited, his eyes fixed on the superstar's exit door, not blinking, barely breathing, just watching. Waiting.

"You too, 'Chelle. Be safe, okay?" Stacy waved to the other woman and then headed for her car, totally oblivious to the fact that she was being watched. She hummed quietly as she unlocked the small convertible. She paused, for no reason at all and looked up, frowning slightly. She shook her head and then threw her sports bag onto the passenger seat.

"Seeya, Stace! Welcome back!" Stacy turned and smiled, waving again, "Bye, John! See you next week." Stacy had just opened the driver's side door when she felt the hair's on the back of her neck stand up. She turned and then the world titled sharply, before everything went black.

Slowly, she surfaced. She felt like she had the world's worst hangover and she groaned slightly. Her plan had been to bring her hands down and rub her face, but as she tried, she found her wrists suspended above her head. This was her first indication that she was in a potentially dangerous situation. She gasped and tilted her head back sharply, tugging at the restraints holding her wrists. It was then that she realised she was lying on something soft and as her eyes adjusted to the dark, she concluded that it was a bed. She struggled more fervently now. Her legs were not restrained, so she kicked and thrashed, trying to get some leverage to free her arms.

The feeling of light fingers touching her right calf froze her in place. She turned her head in the direction of the sensation. Whoever it was stood in complete shadow, blocking him from her gaze. All she could see was the large outline of his shape. His fingers lightly danced along the inside of her calf and up her leg. She whimpered in fear, jerking her leg away only to let out a small scream of pain as the hand dug painfully into her thigh. She breathed heavily through her nose, her teeth biting into her lip. Then she caught the smell, the cologne. So familiar. She'd know that smell anywhere. She'd once insisted on the wearer half soaking a t-shirt in it, so that she could smell it whenever she liked. "Randy…" She breathed, in a terrified voice.

He stepped forward, allowing the light from the window to fall across his ice blue eyes. He leaned over her, one hand still on her leg, the other holding him up, over her head. His eyes searched hers and she felt fear shoot through her again. "Randy, please…let me go…this isn't funny. I'm scared." Randy shook his head slowly and rested his lips gently against her forehead. He dipped his head to run those lips over her jaw and she turned her face away sharply. He whispered into her ear, his tone snakelike and poisonous, yet seductive and intoxicating, "I want you to be scared, Stacy. Fear will keep your mind open and let me inside. I wont hurt you…if you're a good girl."

He leaned away again and Stacy felt tears beginning to form in her eyes. She tried to blink them away, looking at Randy again as he retreated back into the shadows, "Why are you doing this to me? At least tell me that much. Please, I don't understand." She heard him sigh. He turned to face her again and ran a hand over his head, before moving suddenly, sharply to straddle her waist. He braced himself on his hands, which were curled into fists and looked down at her. He seemed angry now and his words came out on a hiss, "All that time you taunted me. The way you used to look at me, kiss me, touch me and you never gave me any more than that."

Stacy shrunk down, away from him and shook her head, "It was just work, Randy. I had to be that way." Randy lowered himself slowly to rest his forehead firmly against hers. "You never gave me a chance." He then rolled his head to the side, but kept the contact of their skin. He shut his eyes and drew his breath in through his teeth. He turned his head again and ran his lips over her cheek, causing her to squeal in pain as he bit into the soft flesh.

He left her there then, without a word. She struggled and struggled until her wrists were raw and painful and then she just lay there and cried. She hadn't done anything to deserve this. She didn't know why he was doing this to her. She put up one last feeble struggle, but her arms hurt far too much for her to keep it up. She let her eyes closed and prayed that she would fall asleep. It must have worked, because when she opened her eyes, daylight was peeking through the closed heavy curtain. It was still dark, though and she couldn't make out much of the room, except that the furniture that was in it was big and dark. She tugged at her wrists, but they were still securely bound. She waited, expecting that Randy would come back to make sure she was alright, but he never came.

She began to panic. What if he was just going to leave her here? As that thought hit, she started struggling again, screaming. The door to the room flew open, letting in a blinding burst of light. It quickly closed again and Stacy could hear Randy's footsteps as he drew closer to the bed. She tried to move away from him as he sat down, but his hand closed tightly around her jaw, forcing her to stay where she was and look at him, "Why are you screaming?"

It was difficult to talk through his grip on her face, but she managed it somehow, "I'm scared. Please, please let me go."

"Sorry, Princess. That wont be happening anytime soon." His tone was completely conversational and Stacy felt anger being to rise inside of her. She kicked her legs and screamed again, "What do you want from me!" Something smashed against the wall as Randy threw whatever he'd been holding in the hand that wasn't gripping her face. He stood up suddenly and glared down at her, "I want you to feel how I've felt for all these years." He sat down again in a sharp movement, pressing his forehead against hers as he had the previous night, but harder this time. It hurt and she tried to turn her face away. His hands found her wrists and his thumbs pushed nastily against the raw, bleeding skin where she had been fighting her restraints. She gasped and tried in vain to move her skin from his reach.

Randy watched her with a kind of avid fascination. She had no idea how provocative the movement of her body was, even as it trembled in fear. She twisted and slid as if she were made of water and no bones or muscles restricted her body's ability to manoeuvre. Her smell, her perfume or just the smell of her was sweet and crisp, like cold water and roses, mingling in the air and clouding up his mind. Touching her skin was like running his fingers over the purest silk. She reacted beautifully to him, like a violin being played by expert hands. He knew exactly what to do to get the best from her because she didn't understand. She was afraid, she thought he wanted to hurt her, that he wanted to do horrific things to her, but she was wrong. He loved her, with an intensity that hurt.

He wanted her to see that, to know that bringing her here was the only way he could protect her from the rest of the world. If she would only behave and not fight him, then everything would be fine. She just had to be a good girl and everything would be perfect. No-one would ever be able to come in between them. She needed to understand. He watched her as she lay, gently whimpering and crying. He hated to see the tears streaking down the sides of her face, disappearing into her hair. He reached out and lightly brushed those tears away, saddened when she flinched. He leant down to then kiss at the tears, tasting their salty essence on his tongue.

"Don't…Don't! Don't touch me!" Some fight had returned to her and she tried to move out of his way. Abruptly the tenderness of his mood switched to fury and his hand closed around her throat. He pressed her down, into the bed, cutting of her air. Her choked noises as she tried and failed to draw in air, were satisfying to him. She had to understand. She had to behave. All she had to do was exactly what he said or indicated he wanted her to do. Was that so hard. Her eyes were started to roll back in her head, so he released her throat, watching her cough and draw in great lungfuls of air. He looked at her neck and already he could see darkening red marks on her pale skin, where his fingers had been. That gave him an idea.

He left without a word, returning a few minutes later. In his hands were a candle and a small box. He sat on the edge of the bed as Stacy watched him with wide, terrified eyes. He lit the candle and then pulled a ling, thin sowing needle from the box and stuck it into the candle, right beside the flame. He then turned to Stay and leaned down, forcing his lips against hers. She didn't kiss him back, but that was alright. He then ran his hands lightly down her face and smiled at her, "This…will be painful, but don't worry. The pain will go away in the end and then you'll be mine forever." Stacy stared at him, horrified and knowing that whatever he had planned, she did not want it to happen. Her eyes flicked to the candle as he suddenly reached over and pulled the needle out.

His intent became clear as he brought the needle to her leg and she screamed as she felt the searing, burning, white-hot pain of the heated metal being pressed into her skin. She tried to rip her leg away, but Randy's other hand had a firm grip on it. He repeated this twice more before she passed out from the pain. When she awoke, her leg felt like it was on fire, it stung and it burned, but the worst part was the smell. The room was filled with the odour of burning flesh and it turned her stomach. "Oh, God…Oh, God…"

"God wont help you, Stacy. Here, look what I did for you." Randy grabbed her leg and pushed it into the air so that she could see. Burned into her right thigh were the words; Randy Orton loves Stacy Keibler. She almost passed out again at the sight of it. He was completely insane. She was never going to get out of here alive. Her breathing quickened as the full reality of her situation became clear to her. She was never going to see the light of day again, nor her family, nor her friends. Would they ever know what had happened to her? Would Randy ever be caught? Or would she simply be left to rot in this room?

"Tell me, Stacy…Did you ever feel anything for me?" Randy asked in a soft voice as he sat on the edge of the bed now. Stacy didn't flinch from him this time. There was no point. There was nowhere she could go and it only seemed to make it worse when she fought him. She frowned at him and then nodded sharply, "Yes, I did. Once, but…there were lines, Randy. Lines you just don't cross."

"Why? Why didn't you cross them?" Randy leaned towards her a little, pleased that she still did not flinch away, "Because…Because, Randy…our job, our careers. I didn't want to put them at risk…please, believe me. I never meant to reject you." Her voice dropped to a pleading whisper and Randy nodded, sighing as he sat up straight again. He stood up, pacing a little, but never leaving her sight, "You're right. You are. Outside influence was always the problem." He moved, quick as lightening to suddenly straddle her waist. His eyes bored down into hers and a maniacal smile appeared on his face, "But, we can change that now. We can go to a place where we can be together without anyone else interfering, ever again." Stacy frowned, not sure what he meant. Her eyes follow his movements as he reached into the set of drawers beside the bed and slowly withdrew a small handgun.

"No, no! Randy, please! No!"

"Shh, shh. This wont hurt and then we'll be together, always." His voice was soothing and he pressed his mouth to her lips as he pressed the gun to her head. She screamed against his mouth, but it was abruptly cut off by the sound of the gun. Randy closed his eyes as he felt the warmth of her blood spray across his face. He then gently untied her wrists and threw the restraints away. He looked down at her beautiful face and lightly closed her eyes. She could have been sleeping if it weren't for the blood and gaping wound in her head. He smiled and gently positioned himself so that she was lying with her back against his chest and he wrapped an arm around her, kissing her shoulder as he brought the gun back up, this time pressing it to his own temple. BANG!

* * *

"The world is in shock today as the bodies of professional wrestlers, Randy Orton and Stacy Keibler were discovered at Mr Orton's home in St. Louis. It is believed that the couple killed themselves. No-one else is being sought in connection with the deaths. We can go live now to a press conference with Vince McMahon, chairman of the WWE."

Vince stood on the podium, with a sick feeling in his stomach. He stared at the nameless faces of the journalists in front of him and sighed, looking down at the paper in front of him which contained his pre-written speech, a speech he already had memorised. He lifted his head again and began to speak; "I can confirm that Mr Orton and Miss Keibler were found dead this morning. We at the WWE are deeply saddened by the loss of Mr Orton, one of our top stars and Miss Keibler, who was just returning to us. Our thoughts and prayers are with their families at this terrible time and we ask that their families be given privacy to grieve without the press looking in. That is all. Thank you." 


End file.
